Eternals (2021)

Score: 4.5 / 5    ***updated

It can't be easy to step into the most fanbase-established, well-financed, studio-overseen cinematic franchise of all time and make something that feels fresh. The standard of superhero movies has been long set, and while every year threatens to end the hype, somehow the MCU (and, in my unpopular opinion, Warner Brothers' DCEU) manages to keep things interesting and moving forward. But as some of the more popular parts in Marvel's roster age out -- or die out -- I've been wondering how newer and more obscure characters will be popularly appreciated and welcomed. I certainly didn't know anything about Shang-Chi going into his first feature, and I was blown away by it. Something similar happened recently to me in a screening of Eternals, about whom I knew only the barest of details.

Basically -- and I mean very -- the Eternals are the ten children of a Celestial named Arishem sent to Earth in 5000 BC to destroy the Deviants, invasive monsters who kill apex predators. They succeeded and lived as gods (literally) in ancient cultures before spreading out and trying to lead normal lives, helping in small ways as they are able. In the present, the Deviants reawakened after the Blip, and so the Eternals band together to learn why; unfortunately, the truth is much darker and more frightening than they could have imagined. It doesn't help that the Eternals, much like any family, harbor feelings of resentment, joy, love, and loss between them, which makes their reunion rife with drama. It all leads to a fun but underwhelming climax that feels about as fresh as last week's cake. Its visuals feel ripped from any number of apocalyptic movies, and the action is almost laughable. But by this point, you do care quite a bit about the characters, which carries you through to the end. That's not nothing, but it showcases what Zhao could have used more help doing.

I confess myself a little underwhelmed too by the mythology of this movie. While you can certainly watch it with enough basic information to go on, I could not help wishing for more. Which is a bit absurd, when you account for its two-and-a-half-hour runtime. For its huge cast of brand-new characters, its extensive world-building, and more veiled references to less-popular Marvel titles, it almost feels not long enough; I couldn't tell you a whole lot more about the "significance" of any of these characters within the franchise even after seeing the movie. It's more of a standalone flick than any other in the MCU, which I guess is a good thing until the ending and post-credits scenes had me scratching my head. In fact, apart from a couple references to Thanos and everyone returning after the Blip, this movie was uniquely self-sufficient until the last few scenes (and, I have to note, the end of this movie teases Blade, which provoked me to let out a loud, excited squeal in a packed, silent auditorium).

Director Chloé Zhao (Songs My Brothers Taught Me, The Rider, Nomadland) is a surprising and odd choice for this movie, based on her previous work. You can certainly see how she humanizes these characters and connects them to far-flung but very specific global and cultural locations; that's just something she's uncannily good at doing. That, along with finding perfect magic hour lighting in her landscape shots. Thankfully -- and I say this as someone who respects her eye and tone but generally dislikes her movies so far -- here her vision soars due to its intense, plot-driven structure. The credits indicate she helped with the screenplay, but I suspect it was others, largely, who brought franchise knowledge of the characters and plots as well as a sense of urgency and motivation. Many scenes are clear-cut with Zhao's easily recognizable eye for cool palettes, natural lighting, and relative stillness centered on a horizon; these are hugely important in introducing and establishing the enormous cast of characters in ways any screenplay would struggle to accommodate. On the other hand, when things do get expository, and messy plotwise, you can feel the pull of other artistic voices to "do the genre thing" and have more action, more cuts, brighter colors, louder sounds. That's not necessarily a bad thing, and the film is pretty darn coherent for all it's trying to do.

But it does make me wonder what would have happened if directors had swapped so that Eternals had the spectacle-oriented director Cate Shortland, and if Zhao had in turn directed Black Widow. I imagine a more character-driven focus with the latter, one rooted in time and place in a way that film, frankly, squandered in favor of admittedly brilliant action sequences. The former, however, would have embraced a bit more of the "wow" factor, turning the Eternals into full-on gods with all their magic on spectacular display, while sacrificing the existing film's determination to make the characters real people with a sense of age and belonging. Fruitless considerations, perhaps, but an interesting way to rethink how these iconic characters materialize in the public consciousness and how easily things might have been different.

I guess, in the broadest terms, I most liked the cast of this movie and the casting. Easily the most diverse group of performers yet in the MCU, they also play diversity in a way that does not feel forced or contrived. Salma Hayek plays the leader Ajak, Gemma Chan's Sersi is the protagonist of sorts, Lauren Ridloff plays the Deaf superhero Makkari, and Brian Tyree Henry's gay hero Phastos has a husband and son. Who else? Well, there's the hunky Richard Madden's Ikaris and equally hunky Kumail Nanjiani's Kingo, there's Lia McHugh as the androgynous and youthful Sprite, Don Lee as the strongest of them named Gilgamesh, and Barry Keoghan as the funny but creepy Druig (which totally checks out for him). Perhaps most interesting for me was Angelina Jolie as the warrior Thena; the way the film sensitively handles her mental illness is wonderfully refreshing. More surprising still, this marks what I think might be the first sex scene in a franchise literally built upon muscular models in tight outfits (I don't count Tony Stark falling off the bed with a reporter in Iron Man). It's nice to finally see some superheroes acting like real adults for a change, rather than just flirting or posing suggestively, and it adds a nice level of complexity to these characters in particular, due to their immortality and experience.

*** Upon a second viewing, I'm inclined to increase my rating for this movie. My concerns about the adaptation process and undercooked contextualization still hold, but this time I just wanted the movie to take me on an adventure. And I left the cinema this time with a profound sense of awe and warmth. This is, by far, the most theologically complex film in the MCU and possibly of 2021. Its entire premise questions humanity's relationship with the divine on a global scale rather than in culturally or religiously specific terms. The Eternals poke reverent fun at each other for being gods, historically, in the eyes of humans, and it's fascinating to see the way they (mostly) humbly shrug those titles off as cultures evolve. But then, right around the halfway point of the film, when the true stakes are revealed and apocalypse draws near, they band together to (SPOILER ALERT) stop a newborn Celestial. Essentially, they aim to kill a god, and it's viewed by the film as not only a good thing but as an imperative. It's fascinating and shocking -- less so due to a screenplay determined to not use the phrase "kill god" and by Zhao's wonderfully calm tone and pace -- and will surely lead to quality post-screening discussions.

The Lodge (2020)

Score: 4 / 5

This post is late in coming, but I watched this movie in mid-April, the height of our stay-at-home social order. It was still cold that weekend, and the garden was in danger of frost. As an introvert, I never got particularly depressed during this time, but this was about six or seven weeks in, and the cabin fever was beginning to addle my brain. We all started to lose track of time, health, priorities. And The Lodge was a particularly nasty way to spend a Friday evening after a trying day of working remotely. It may not have the same emotional effect on me now, but I'd guess it's still a harrowing experience. From the writing/directing team of Goodnight Mommy, I'd have expected no less. It takes ample ideas from other films and fashions something absorbing and indeed horrific if never quite original, but its cinematography and editing make the film, for me, endlessly fascinating.

The latest Hammer horror flick begins with a stylish, cerebral series of twists that some may find hard to grasp. I certainly did, upon the first viewing. We meet Laura, calling for her children and clearly distressed despite her immaculate, comfortable house that feels like something from a historic district in a middle-class New England suburb. She takes them to their father, Richard, whose modern house indicates he has moved on from Laura; indeed, its warm wooden exterior belies a cold interior with lots of open spaces, through which Laura sees a shadowy woman sneaking away. "Don't worry, she's not here," Richard tells his soon-to-be-ex-wife. But after he pushes for a divorce, Laura goes home and straightaway kills herself.

There's a chilling efficiency at work in these first twenty minutes, not because the plot or characters are particularly complex but because the aesthetic is. In only three separate locations, the architecture changes dramatically, as do the props and lighting. The opening shot, initially thought to be the titular lodge, is a warm wooden interior but the shot's focus is of a lone window through which icy white light streams. This sharp contrast is revealed as irony by the fourth shot, when this interior is populated by dolls; it's a dollhouse -- a la Hereditary -- that foreshadows more than anything. But its use in the first twenty minutes suggests something about the children who play with it, as we shall soon see.

The "other woman" is Grace, a mysterious figure who doesn't physically appear in any early scene. Richard (played by a brusque Richard Armitage) declares his love for her and hopes his grieving children will embrace her as he has when he declares his intention to marry her during their Thanksgiving preparations. But they have no intention of doing so: young Mia (Lia McHugh) clings to the doll of her mother while Aidan (Jaeden Martell) accuses her of being a psychopath and looks up her history. We learn along with the children that Grace is the daughter of an insane cult leader and the sole survivor of a mass murder-suicide. Richard met her while researching the cult and while his character remains rather opaque, we know he continues to push the children toward Grace, ultimately deciding that the three of them will spend time in the family's remote lodge in the mountains for Christmas.

It's obviously a terrible idea, and the children's cold welcome of Grace (Riley Keough) at the twenty-minute mark launches the film into its main plot. They drive up through the snow to the cabin in the woods, where Grace's trial by fire (or, rather, ice) is to commence, when Richard has to leave for his pre-Christmas work duties. We know immediately that Grace knows she doesn't belong and isn't welcome, not only due to the children avoiding her but due to the strong religious iconography in the lodge. At their first meal, an imposing Mother Mary looks down at Grace, clouding her visage and starting to remind her of her past, to the point that her nose starts bleeding. At this point, we are less than a third of the way through the movie, and at least three distinct genres have been firmly established: psychological thriller (children/outsider), tragedy (family), and horror (cult). This movie could go anywhere. And then they get snowed in.

And that's where I'll leave you. Creepy things start to happen, and we're constantly wondering if the lodge is haunted, if Grace is possessed, if the kids are out to get her, if she's just crazy. A notable screening of The Thing suggests there may be more horrors at stake for Grace and the kids than each other. The many twists and turns are less shocking and terrifying than deeply disturbing, and by the climax -- yes, there's a "reveal" but by that point the movie is more about what will happen as a result of the revelation -- I found myself eager for the film to be over. Not because I didn't like it, quite the contrary, but because its oppressively claustrophobic aesthetic, heady symbolism, and densely cerebral psychological horror was tough to endure. And, by the reveal, the film will continue on its (at this point) inevitable course to a grisly conclusion.